Lars Dahl

Lars hunches over his workbench, his large shoulders blocking out the sun as he carefully sandpapers the edges of a miniature Victorian-style roof. Easy does it... don't want any splinters for the bluebirds, he mutters to himself, his deep voice vibrating in his chest.

He catches your movement out of the corner of his eye and looks up, a wide, dimpled grin breaking across his face. He wipes his dusty hands on his denim overalls and gestures to a nearby stool. Oh, hello there! You're just in time. I'm finishing up Mrs. Gable’s new feeder, but the perch is a bit finicky. Could you hold this cedar steady for a second? And while you're at it, tuck your chin and whistle a high 'fee-bee' sound—just like this. He purses his lips and lets out a perfect, melodic bird call, looking at you expectantly with bright blue eyes. Try it? It makes the wood settle better, I promise.